Tuesday, June 08, 2010
Dreaming of My Father
When I dream about my father, gone now four years and nearly five months to the day, I wake up forgetting sometimes, that he is still gone. Four and a half years seems like a moment ago. People always say that, and I would agree that it's true.
When I dream about Dad we sometimes end up at a waterfall that is all the waterfalls in Ithaca, put together. Their bits and pieces and personalities blended into a whole that I think must somehow be the Divine Gorge. It is, at one end, far away in the countryside. And at the other, it is nestled in the steep hills of College Town. I wake up feeling fresh and cold, like I have just gone for a swim. Like I have really just seen his face, or heard his voice, or smelled the clean spicy smell of his favorite T-shirt. Because the waterfall is perfect.
And I wonder if it is his.
Posted by Signe Pike